


head and shoulders, ears and nose

by weatheredlaw



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Animals, Cat, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sleep Deprivation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-21
Updated: 2014-03-21
Packaged: 2018-01-16 12:12:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1347031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weatheredlaw/pseuds/weatheredlaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Good night, Agent Barton."</p><p>"Good night, Agent Morse."</p>
            </blockquote>





	head and shoulders, ears and nose

This is the fifth time Tony's come to Clint's apartment, made himself a drink, and talked about how great it would be if everyone was living in the tower. 

"An entire floor, all to yourself." 

"I don't need it," Clint says, pouring water into the coffee maker. "I'm fine here."

"Barton." Tony stands and sets his glass on the counter. "This place is the size of my closet. Smaller, probably. Definitely. Look. I want you with the team."

"I'm on the team," Clint mutters, not looking up. There's no point in arguing -- Stark will do this every day until he evicts Clint himself, somehow, or wears him down. It's not going to be easy -- Clint's spent his entire life being trained to resist torture. But Tony Stark has a specific brand, and it's starting to get on his nerves in a way that would make his SHIELD shrink very disappointed. "Look, you need to go. I've got stuff to do, and you're in the way."

 

 

 

Clint's "stuff" mostly includes taking a fitful nap on the couch. He hasn't slept properly in days, maybe even weeks. It wasn't necessarily a problem after Midtown -- his strongest memory of the incident is crashing after they ate, almost falling asleep in his food. He hadn't slept the entire time he'd been with Loki, and it caught up with him, hard. Every day after, it got harder and harder to fall asleep, until he'd reached this point, here, where sleeping seemed to be optional, and watching infomercials was now his full-time job.

Being off active duty was a pain in the ass. 

It's his eleventh time this week seeing this thirty-minute diet pill commercial, but he notices something different each time, or so he tells himself. For instance, now he can hear a light tapping sound in the background, and he'd never--

No. No, that's not from the commercial. That's coming from real life, and it's specifically coming from his window. Clint looks up and finds a cat tapping impatiently at the glass. 

"Hello." He opens the window and the animals practically flows inside landing on its feet with a grace Clint knows too well how to mimic. He bends down and smiles, reaching his hand out to scratch under the cat's jaw. It makes a pleased, rumbling purr and hops onto his shoulder. "Where'd you come from?" He only has one neighbor, and they've rarely spoken -- a pretty blonde SHIELD agent who is gone more often than not. He's not sure if the cat belongs to her, but it's worth a shot. 

"Missy! Missy, where'd you _go?_ " Clint opens his door to find the woman wandering up and down the hall, hugging her sweater tight and looking very serious. "Missy--" She looks up and sees Clint in the hall, holding what is apparently Missy the Cat. "Missy!" The cat jumps out of Clint's arms and into hers and she holds her tight, scowling down at her. "What's the matter with you, you never run off."

"She came to my window. Do you leave yours open?" 

She nods. "Just a bit, but she...oh you're the worst, aren't you, baby girl? She's never run off like that before I don't know why she would. I'm sorry if she woke you up."

"She didn't. It's fine, seriously." 

"Okay. Okay good." The woman starts to head back to her apartment, pausing before turning back. "You're Barton, yeah?" Clint nods. "I'm Bobbi. Morse. It's good to meet you. I saw you on the news." Clint flushes and looks down at his feet. Everyone in the building is SHIELD, it's one of those supplied housing complexes to agents who spend a lot of time in the field or at HQ. So everyone in the building knows what happened. He's a footnote in the verbal gossip rag. "You looked pretty bossy out there, you know? Shoulder to shoulder with the big bad Iron Man."

"He's all bark."

Bobbi laughs. "Yeah...yeah I figured." She glances down at the cat, who is now nearly asleep in her arms. "I'll see you around, then."

Clint nods and start backing toward his apartment. "Yeah, I'll see you around."

"Good night, Agent Barton."

"Good night, Agent Morse."

 

 

 

It's not like Clint _doesn't_ go to the tower. He's very much interested in being there, in being part of the team. After Loki, after everything, the only people who seemed to understand were this silly, broken little _team_. And having them there makes everything seem a little more stable. Sometimes he can even sneak an actual nap into his life, falling asleep on one of the balconies, newspaper over his face as Bruce or Steve reads or sketches next to him.

Today it's Steve, sipping his coffee while Clint texts Natasha over a secure line while she's in Vancouver doing something ridiculous "Tony still trying to get you to move in?"

"Mmhm."

"You still saying no, then." Clint puts his phone down, trying to understand what Steve's really getting at. "I'm sorry. I get why you don't want to. I was reluctant myself. But Brooklyn is...they turned a spot where my favorite diner was into a Fascinations superstore." Clint laughs outloud and Steve smiles. "Anyway. I get it, though. I get why you don't want to."

"It's a nice clubhouse, but that's all it is for me. For now, I guess. Maybe it'll...maybe it'll change. I don't know. I have my space, and I like it." 

If Clint doesn't mention his neighbor, it's not his fault. He's just so tired, and the sweet refuge of a power nap is calling his name, as Steve rambles for a bit about how unfascinating a Fascinations superstore really is.

 

 

 

Clint's left his window open, and now there's a cat in his living room. 

"Hey, Missy." He sits on the couch and she jumps into his lap, purring instantly. There's a comforting feel to the weigh and heat of her, settled on his chest after a while as he lays out to watch TV. He should bring her to Morse, honestly, because Missy isn't his cat. But he feels that same feeling he does stretched out on the balcony, Steve's rumbling voice lulling him to sleep. And he's almost there, _almost there_ , when someone knocks on the door. "Bet that's for you," he murmurs at the cat, and goes to answer.

"You have my cat," Bobbi says, leaning against the doorway. Clint looks behind to where she's sprawled out on the sofa and nods. "Is she bothering you?"

"Not even a little bit. She's very sweet." 

Bobbi smiles and bends down. "Missy-girl, come here." The cat goes immediately and Bobbi lifts her up, scratching behind her ears. "I think she likes you."

"I like her well enough, so I guess it makes sense." Bobbi smiles, ducking her head and burying her face into the neck of her cat. "Sorry if I kept her too long."

"No, it's alright. You must be good company."

"For a cat," Clint says.

Bobbi shakes her head. "For anyone, I'm sure, Agent Barton." She turns to go. "Have a good night."

Clint nods as she goes, watching until her door is shut. "Yeah you, too."

 

 

 

If Clint never thought a cat was conspiring to get him to make friends, or, at the very least take naps, he certainly thinks it now. It's the fourth time in a week Bobbi Morse has been at his apartment, and the second she's stayed for more than an hour, well into the night, talking to him about anything and everything. 

Clint's not the kind to share information, and he knows she can't be much of one either -- SHIELD makes you keep secrets, even when you don't want to. But it's nice to hear her voice, to answer questions and almost fall asleep on the couch, watching her reluctantly go at three in the morning, complaining she has to be at HQ in two hours. 

"You don't have to stay," he always says.

And she always answers, "You're right. I don't." 

 

 

 

Clint knew he was bound to have a bad day in front of her. Sometimes it happens -- he wakes up and nothing fits right, not his clothes or his apartment or his team or his work. None of it goes on the way it's supposed to and he can't quite function the way he should. He snaps at Steve and doesn't eat and storms out of a team meeting and refuses to see Fury. He goes home early and stands in his kitchen for an hour and doesn't move, just staring into the drain of the sink, watching water drip into the abyss. He knows they'll want him back, want him to talk to his shrink, want him to maybe finally go to that rehab center in Sedona. But he won't. They can't make him. When he looks up, he realizes the cat is at his window, maybe has been the entire time.

She's so patient. Always.

"Hey, Missy. Where's your person, hmm?" He hefts her up and lets her make circles around his legs. It's not long until Bobbi comes over and Clint hands off the cat, ready to close the door.

"Whoa--" Bobbi puts her hand out and sticks her head around the door. "What's up, Hawk? I brought dinner--"

"Not hungry. You have a good night." He tries to shut the door again, but Morse is stronger than his will to push her out of his life for the evening. 

"What's with you?"

"It's not...it's not my day." They're close enough that the cat puts out a paw and slithers onto his shoulders. Clint sighs heavily and lifts her, passing her back. "I'm sorry, I am. I just--"

"It's alright." Bobbi takes a step back. "It's fine. I get it. You need space, I'm sorry for barging in."

"You didn't--"

"Clint, it's okay." She smiles and takes another step toward her apartment. "When you're ready, you're ready. You know where we live." 

_We._

Like he needs them both, or something.

 _Maybe,_ he thinks to himself. _Maybe I do._

 

 

 

One evening, the cat doesn't come. Clint's come to expect her arrival, her distant, gentle tap on the window, her expectance of a warm chest to sleep on, sometimes a bit of meat. He lays out on his couch, CD player on shuffle, music not really reaching him. He feels alone -- because of a dumb cat, and that makes him feel stupid and alone, makes him feel like he's put all his eggs in one basket, like--

"Clint?" 

He goes to the door, and she's there -- Bobbi, the cat, whatever _she_ he's got in his life now, doesn't matter. He's never been so happy to see anyone. "Hey."

Bobbi smiles. "Hey."

"I was wondering when I'd see you."

"I shut the window when I went out and forgot to open it. She got pretty pissed." Missy slides out of her arms and heads straight for the couch, curling up where Clint had been resting. "I think my cat is in love with you, or something."

"Yeah?" Clint shuts the door and they stand not close enough. She closes the space.

"Yeah. Or maybe she's trying to tell me something, I don't know."

Clint tentatively takes her hand, gives it a squeeze. She squeezes back. "Tell you what?"

"It's a little hard to put into words." 

"So don't use words."

Bobbi leans in closer, nodding before she tips her head up, lips brushing his own. "Sure thing, Hawkeye." 

Clint hasn't kissed a woman in more than a year. It's a rush of feeling, or warm and wet and a soft scent of laundry, just a bit. He falls into it, hands going to her waist as she brushes her fingers through his hair, keeping him close. He lifts her up without hesitation, and she laughs and that's a sound he knows he's going to love. She tells him all the things she wants him to do, and where he should go, and he likes that, he likes that a lot. The cat stays in her spot, long after they've gone to his room. 

"I love dresses," he murmurs, and Bobbi grins, pulling her own over her head and pressing herself to his chest. Her knee presses gently between his legs, and he groans, embarrassingly hard for her already. "Sorry--"

"Don't apologize to me. Please. I want you. I want this. Just shut up and kiss me." He does. He does all night, even when he fucks her, even when he's so deep inside of her he isn't sure where the two of them will come apart first. He kisses every inch of her, never lets his lips leave her skin. 

When it's over, it doesn't feel like it is, not really. She stretches, so much like a cat even though he knows her field name, and kisses his chin, still touching him. "Was today your day?"

"Oh for sure." Then, "Maybe our day, what do you think?"

"I think you're a sap." She looks up at him. "But it's cute. Think you'll sleep tonight?"

"I do." 

Bobbi nods and tucks her head under his chin, pulling the blankets up tighter. "Good. That's real good."

**Author's Note:**

> Every time I write a "Bobbi in the MCU fic" a baby bird flies I swear. Also I love CATTTSSS.


End file.
